fic: "Sure Without a Doubt" (Organization XIII, #2)
Title: Sure Without a Doubt
Author:
Claim: Organization XIII
Pairing: Roxas/Axel
Theme Set: Light
Theme: #2, Freedom
Disclaimer: Squeenix owns me, not the other way around. ^^
Summary: AU on the Sixth Day of the prologue. Roxas insists it's not too late.
Sure Without a Doubt
"But it's too late," Axel snarls, his eyes wide, his weapons -- chakrams, Roxas remembers, they're called chakrams -- spinning into life, blazing with flames. The bits and pieces of memory coming back don't help, don't give Roxas any idea how to deal with this -- but he's had fights with Hayner, hasn't he? When Hayner just wouldn't listen until Roxas made him?
He reaches into his heart, into nothing, and calls his -- his keyblades, the one black and the one shining.
"Two?" Axel says, staring. Like he finally might believe Roxas remembers who he is. What he is.
It's still not enough to make Axel stop, though. He thinks they're out of time, Roxas realizes as the wall of flame roars up around them. But they can't be. They can't be.
"You won't forget this," Axel says as he strikes, all flames and spinning wheels and a flicker of black, and Roxas blocks as best he can. It's the same as Hayner's anger. There must be promises -- things they've said -- things he didn't do, things he almost remembers -- and he's not going to give up now.
The ground under him seethes and blisters with heat, so Roxas launches himself into the air, following his keyblades toward Axel. They catch, weapons clashing, and he meets Axel's eyes over the sparks between them. "Xemnas," he says.
Axel's eyes widen -- Roxas thinks of seeing that happen before, of Axel under him, of bare skin and heat and -- and he says, "It's too late, Roxas." But his voice cracks.
"It's not," Roxas insists as Axel springs away into the cover of the fire. "His name is Xemnas and he sent you to Oblivion with the other five and only you came back and --" he dodges, parries a desperation strike -- "and you said you'd miss me if I left and I didn't believe you, Axel, but I was wrong, and --" this time when Axel lunges for him he's ready, he remembers what to do, his body moving through the motions without him even having to think about it -- jump and twist and strike and strike again, and Axel's landing hard on his back with Roxas coming down on top of him -- "and it's not too late until that guy comes for us, Axel, and you're wasting time."
Axel stares up at him, stunned quiet, and the flames around them die. "You mean it?"
Something by the door flickers and pixelates. "Hurry," Roxas says.
Under them the floor boils and seeps blackness, but Axel's eyes are bright and Roxas tells himself he's not afraid as they sink into the dark. It presses in, closing around them, thick and cool and smothering, and they move through it in a kind of weird, weightless shifting.
Where are we going? Roxas tries to ask, but no sound comes out of his mouth. That somehow makes it much worse, and he clings to Axel, to the only heat, the only solid presence in the dark. They'll be out soon, won't they? He remembers -- he's never liked this, never wanted to travel through the darkness. Hardly a surprise, he remembers someone saying. Quiet voice, face hidden behind silvery hair. Zexion. His element is light, so would it not make sense for him to find the corridors of darkness inhospitable?
They break out, into the light, before Roxas can remember the rest of that conversation. This room is the opposite of the dark realm, almost completely bright white from floor to vaulted ceiling, open, airy, spacious. Only the chill is the same. And Axel, under him, vivid color and heat.
"There's no door," Roxas says. "Where are we?"
Axel sits up, sliding his arms around Roxas's waist, pushing his hands up under Roxas's shirt. "My room," he says. "Make yourself at home."
He has no memories of this, Roxas thinks. "Why didn't you ever bring me here before?" He doesn't need to ask why Axel's touching him. He remembers that.
"You know me," Axel says. His hands don't stop moving. Roxas pushes into the touch without thinking about it. "Always was a sneaky bastard."
"You're letting me in now," Roxas says. He looks down, meets Axel's eyes, bright crazy shining green.
Axel almost grins, a twist at one corner of his mouth. "Yeah, well. You got me in the habit of that, remember?" He cups a hand over the front of Roxas's pants and squeezes, and Roxas bucks into his hand like it's another combat reflex.
The memories come back in a rush, like fuel poured on a fire, like the surge of light and heat -- Axel's back arching, his hands grasping at nothing, his skin slick with sweat, his body all long pale limbs, sinewy and lean, pushing back against everything Roxas could do to him, demanding more with his voice hoarse and his lips bitten and -- "Axel," Roxas says, and he doesn't remember urgency like this but he feels it, "I want to."
"Yes," Axel says, tugging at the buttons of Roxas's pants, surprisingly agile with his gloves still on. "Yes, yes, Roxas," and he gets Roxas's pants open and gets a hand inside and oh god.
"Please, Axel," Roxas says, pushing into that touch, and he feels shaky, his hands trembling and clumsy.
"Let me up," Axel says, and Roxas slides off him so he can get to his own zippers. He barely strips at all, rucking his coat up and pulling his pants down and rolling up onto his hands and knees. "Now," he says, "come on."
Like this?" Roxas asks. "Are you sure?" It just sounds too weird to say he wants to see Axel's face, but --
"Come on, Roxas, don't keep me waiting," Axel says, looking back at him, pouting.
"You know I don't fall for it when you whine," Roxas says, as he remembers that it's true. But he can't make himself stop this time, either, between the rising tide of his memories coming back and the way Axel wants him -- needs him -- so much. He spits in his hand and pushes and it's all heat and tightness after that, almost too much to stand, friction against raw nerves and Axel's harsh panting breaths and then everything, for a few seconds, is light.
He still feels unsettled afterward, like there are two of him trying to settle into one body. Like the him in Twilight Town and the him in this place are different people. "Axel?" he says, because he needs to be able to anchor at least one of himself.
Axel laughs, brittle and short. "You remember after all, huh," he says. He shrugs, and Roxas pulls out to let him up. "I knew you couldn't be really gone."
He doesn't mean that, any more than Hayner meant it when he would claim afterward that he'd never been upset. Roxas thinks he might understand things better than he used to, once he puts both sets of memories together. "What now?"
"Now," Axel says, tugging his pants back up, "we get ready for trouble. Sooner or later, and I'm betting on sooner, somebody's going to come looking for us."
"Somebody," Roxas says. His hands shake as he zips his pants back up. "Like that guy from the mansion."
Axel nods. "Him, or else the Organization. They might not be so thrilled, either. I was supposed to destroy you back there."
"Like you could've," Roxas says, to cover the minute when he feels queasy thinking about it. He takes a deep breath, watches the way Axel is going calm and centered and ready. "Are we going to be okay?"
"Yeah," Axel says, standing up. He reaches out to help Roxas up, too, and pulls Roxas's hand to his chest. "I can feel it. Right here."
Roxas hesitates for just a second, then nods. "Okay." He was wrong about how much Axel felt before, wasn't he? And he'd rather choose to believe than choose not to.
In the corner of the room, tendrils of darkness erupt out of the wall, a portal opening. "That's our cue," Axel says. He summons his chakrams. "Ready?"
Roxas reaches for his keyblades. "Yeah," he says. His hands close around the hilts, and he and Axel turn to face the darkness together.
Author:
Claim: Organization XIII
Pairing: Roxas/Axel
Theme Set: Light
Theme: #2, Freedom
Disclaimer: Squeenix owns me, not the other way around. ^^
Summary: AU on the Sixth Day of the prologue. Roxas insists it's not too late.
Sure Without a Doubt
"But it's too late," Axel snarls, his eyes wide, his weapons -- chakrams, Roxas remembers, they're called chakrams -- spinning into life, blazing with flames. The bits and pieces of memory coming back don't help, don't give Roxas any idea how to deal with this -- but he's had fights with Hayner, hasn't he? When Hayner just wouldn't listen until Roxas made him?
He reaches into his heart, into nothing, and calls his -- his keyblades, the one black and the one shining.
"Two?" Axel says, staring. Like he finally might believe Roxas remembers who he is. What he is.
It's still not enough to make Axel stop, though. He thinks they're out of time, Roxas realizes as the wall of flame roars up around them. But they can't be. They can't be.
"You won't forget this," Axel says as he strikes, all flames and spinning wheels and a flicker of black, and Roxas blocks as best he can. It's the same as Hayner's anger. There must be promises -- things they've said -- things he didn't do, things he almost remembers -- and he's not going to give up now.
The ground under him seethes and blisters with heat, so Roxas launches himself into the air, following his keyblades toward Axel. They catch, weapons clashing, and he meets Axel's eyes over the sparks between them. "Xemnas," he says.
Axel's eyes widen -- Roxas thinks of seeing that happen before, of Axel under him, of bare skin and heat and -- and he says, "It's too late, Roxas." But his voice cracks.
"It's not," Roxas insists as Axel springs away into the cover of the fire. "His name is Xemnas and he sent you to Oblivion with the other five and only you came back and --" he dodges, parries a desperation strike -- "and you said you'd miss me if I left and I didn't believe you, Axel, but I was wrong, and --" this time when Axel lunges for him he's ready, he remembers what to do, his body moving through the motions without him even having to think about it -- jump and twist and strike and strike again, and Axel's landing hard on his back with Roxas coming down on top of him -- "and it's not too late until that guy comes for us, Axel, and you're wasting time."
Axel stares up at him, stunned quiet, and the flames around them die. "You mean it?"
Something by the door flickers and pixelates. "Hurry," Roxas says.
Under them the floor boils and seeps blackness, but Axel's eyes are bright and Roxas tells himself he's not afraid as they sink into the dark. It presses in, closing around them, thick and cool and smothering, and they move through it in a kind of weird, weightless shifting.
Where are we going? Roxas tries to ask, but no sound comes out of his mouth. That somehow makes it much worse, and he clings to Axel, to the only heat, the only solid presence in the dark. They'll be out soon, won't they? He remembers -- he's never liked this, never wanted to travel through the darkness. Hardly a surprise, he remembers someone saying. Quiet voice, face hidden behind silvery hair. Zexion. His element is light, so would it not make sense for him to find the corridors of darkness inhospitable?
They break out, into the light, before Roxas can remember the rest of that conversation. This room is the opposite of the dark realm, almost completely bright white from floor to vaulted ceiling, open, airy, spacious. Only the chill is the same. And Axel, under him, vivid color and heat.
"There's no door," Roxas says. "Where are we?"
Axel sits up, sliding his arms around Roxas's waist, pushing his hands up under Roxas's shirt. "My room," he says. "Make yourself at home."
He has no memories of this, Roxas thinks. "Why didn't you ever bring me here before?" He doesn't need to ask why Axel's touching him. He remembers that.
"You know me," Axel says. His hands don't stop moving. Roxas pushes into the touch without thinking about it. "Always was a sneaky bastard."
"You're letting me in now," Roxas says. He looks down, meets Axel's eyes, bright crazy shining green.
Axel almost grins, a twist at one corner of his mouth. "Yeah, well. You got me in the habit of that, remember?" He cups a hand over the front of Roxas's pants and squeezes, and Roxas bucks into his hand like it's another combat reflex.
The memories come back in a rush, like fuel poured on a fire, like the surge of light and heat -- Axel's back arching, his hands grasping at nothing, his skin slick with sweat, his body all long pale limbs, sinewy and lean, pushing back against everything Roxas could do to him, demanding more with his voice hoarse and his lips bitten and -- "Axel," Roxas says, and he doesn't remember urgency like this but he feels it, "I want to."
"Yes," Axel says, tugging at the buttons of Roxas's pants, surprisingly agile with his gloves still on. "Yes, yes, Roxas," and he gets Roxas's pants open and gets a hand inside and oh god.
"Please, Axel," Roxas says, pushing into that touch, and he feels shaky, his hands trembling and clumsy.
"Let me up," Axel says, and Roxas slides off him so he can get to his own zippers. He barely strips at all, rucking his coat up and pulling his pants down and rolling up onto his hands and knees. "Now," he says, "come on."
Like this?" Roxas asks. "Are you sure?" It just sounds too weird to say he wants to see Axel's face, but --
"Come on, Roxas, don't keep me waiting," Axel says, looking back at him, pouting.
"You know I don't fall for it when you whine," Roxas says, as he remembers that it's true. But he can't make himself stop this time, either, between the rising tide of his memories coming back and the way Axel wants him -- needs him -- so much. He spits in his hand and pushes and it's all heat and tightness after that, almost too much to stand, friction against raw nerves and Axel's harsh panting breaths and then everything, for a few seconds, is light.
He still feels unsettled afterward, like there are two of him trying to settle into one body. Like the him in Twilight Town and the him in this place are different people. "Axel?" he says, because he needs to be able to anchor at least one of himself.
Axel laughs, brittle and short. "You remember after all, huh," he says. He shrugs, and Roxas pulls out to let him up. "I knew you couldn't be really gone."
He doesn't mean that, any more than Hayner meant it when he would claim afterward that he'd never been upset. Roxas thinks he might understand things better than he used to, once he puts both sets of memories together. "What now?"
"Now," Axel says, tugging his pants back up, "we get ready for trouble. Sooner or later, and I'm betting on sooner, somebody's going to come looking for us."
"Somebody," Roxas says. His hands shake as he zips his pants back up. "Like that guy from the mansion."
Axel nods. "Him, or else the Organization. They might not be so thrilled, either. I was supposed to destroy you back there."
"Like you could've," Roxas says, to cover the minute when he feels queasy thinking about it. He takes a deep breath, watches the way Axel is going calm and centered and ready. "Are we going to be okay?"
"Yeah," Axel says, standing up. He reaches out to help Roxas up, too, and pulls Roxas's hand to his chest. "I can feel it. Right here."
Roxas hesitates for just a second, then nods. "Okay." He was wrong about how much Axel felt before, wasn't he? And he'd rather choose to believe than choose not to.
In the corner of the room, tendrils of darkness erupt out of the wall, a portal opening. "That's our cue," Axel says. He summons his chakrams. "Ready?"
Roxas reaches for his keyblades. "Yeah," he says. His hands close around the hilts, and he and Axel turn to face the darkness together.